


Blow me (Please)

by purgatorian



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hand Jobs, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Non Consensual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:18:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purgatorian/pseuds/purgatorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam couldn’t even take a shower or get a coffee without facing those stupid hazel eyes of his. He was everywhere. Long fingers, deep breaths and whispers rasping in his ear. And then he was gone. Out the door, out of sight. It was fucking annoying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blow me (Please)

Liam had no idea who it was that had suggested that stupid game. He hadn’t even been sitting in his chair for that long; he had been out in the kitchen chugging one shot after the other. House parties really weren’t his cup of tea. He’d only agreed to go because he thought he’d get out of dealing with Zayn.

Zayn. That absolute prick.

Liam couldn’t even take a shower or get a coffee without facing those stupid hazel eyes of his. He was everywhere. Long fingers, deep breaths and whispers rasping in his ear. And then he was gone. Out the door, out of sight. It was fucking annoying.

Liam had realized Zayn had a thing for him ages ago and he had played it nice. He had told him that no, he wasn’t ready for it and yes, he’d still be his friend. At first, Zayn had accepted his fate. He even tried to hide the longing in his eyes, the daggers of jealousy he sent to everyone Liam as much as looked sideways at.

Unfortunately it hadn’t lasted very long. One night they had all been watching a game on the telly. Louis and Niall were raging at Harry for not rooting at the same team as them and Zayn was just sitting there as he always did; secretly staring at Liam every now and then thinking he wouldn’t notice.

Eventually he had gone to get more popcorn, the others barely noticing his absence. That is, except for one.

Liam was wiping the counter clean with the kitchen cloth, rubbing at an especially stubborn spot. He couldn’t exactly figure out what it was. Maybe it was spaghetti sauce. Or juice. Argh, it was a fucking stubborn thing. He didn’t even notice Zayn entering the room, shutting the door behind him quickly and without as much as a sound.

He only first noticed as Zayn’s hands snaked around his waist, settling on his hips and pinning him to the counter roughly from behind. Liam’s breath hitched and he tried to sturdy himself with his hand, only to slip on the wet cloth in it and thereby hitting his elbow on the hard surface.

“The fuck, Zayn” he growled, stepping violently on Zayn’s right foot to make him move. Zayn hissed in pain behind him and Liam took the opportunity to turn himself around, his chest uncomfortably pressed to Zayn’s as he hadn’t even backed away an inch.

“The fuck,-“he sneered again, putting weight on each word as he spoke, “-do you think you’re doing, you bloody arse!”

He expected at least some sort of a remorseful action. Taking a step or two backwards, stuttering some excuse for startling him or to at least just fucking leave him alone.

He did neither. He was smiling, actually. It was smug, rather devious in fact; like he knew something Liam didn’t and it only infuriated him even more.

And then there was a hand on his mouth, hindering him from saying anything else and hardly letting him breathe as the brown-eyed assaulter leaned in closer, teeth biting down on Liam’s earlobe and causing Liam to writhe in a desperate attempt to cut loose from Zayn’s grip on him.

“I know you don’t want me,” Zayn growled in his ear. “But I know you want this.”

Nonononononono. This could not be happening. Zayn was not about to literally rape him in his kitchen. And yet he was. Zayn’s body was still firmly locking him in position against the hard surface behind his back when Liam felt the zipper of his jeans being undone.

“Mhrmhf,” he cussed into Zayn’s hand, desperately wanting to murder the bloody bastard who thought he could just- Fuck. Cold air met the sensitive skin of his cock as Zayn pulled it out of his pants and gripped it firmly; thumbing the tip without even a single warning and Liam saw shiny stars behind his eyelids.

He could feel himself harden against the rough surface of Zayn’s hand and he wished the floor beneath him would just swallow him whole. Zayn’s cocky chuckle against his ear only made it worse. How dared he even touch him like this? He was such a massive twat.

“Oh, you like it don’t you. You like it when I rub your pretty cock. Don’t you,” he groaned hoarsely and Liam squirmed. This really couldn’t be happening. He wished he didn’t feel the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach as Zayn’s hand stroked him- but he did.

His fingers picked up some speed and frankly; there was no going back now. Liam was screwed, -in more ways than one- and he thanked the high lord for the hand in front on of his mouth. It kept his rather embarrassing moans muffled, although they didn’t slip past Zayn’s attention. “Practically begging for it, aren’t you?”

All Liam wanted was for him to just shut up. The hoarse, dark and almost mocking tone in his voice was such a fucking turn-on and he hated it. He didn’t want to be turned on by Zayn. He reckoned it was a little too late for that though as Zayn had his fingers wrapped around his cock and his pre-cum already covering them.

He knew he was close. Zayn obviously figured it out too as he drastically moved his hand faster, pulling his head down to Liam’s neck and biting on the tender skin there with such pressure Liam was sure his skin would break. And then, it was over. Waves of pleasure coursed through his body and his knees buckled beneath him. Hadn’t it been from the steady pressure from Zayn’s upper body he’d definitely fall to the ground.

Zayn didn’t say a word and neither did Liam. Not that he could really, as he still had a hand locking his mouth shut. Zayn only leaned in closer, making Liam worried that he’d kiss him. Or whisper something obscene or frankly just rude in his ear. But then Zayn’s hand –the one that was now covered in Liam’s cum- moved from Liam’s pants to the sink, turning the knob and rinsing his dirty hand thoroughly.

Liam was a breathless, panting mess against Zayn’s hand and he wished he would just remove it. And as if he read his mind he did so seconds after. There was an excruciatingly weird silence after that, consisting of Zayn having a stare down with a severely confused Liam, his face molded into some sort of emotion he couldn’t really get what was. Anger? Hurt? Arousal? It was impossible to even get a fraction of insight as to what he was thinking.

 

“You’re such a slut. Nobody’s knows it, but me. Slut,” he snickered, directly into Liam’s face and he was so close Liam could breathe in the scent of his hair products. He swallowed nervously, not knowing how to respond to such a statement. Once he decided it was a human right to be insulted in this type of situation he opened his mouth to say something, something to defend himself and his pride. He didn’t get to say anything though as his lips were quickly covered by Zayn’s. Hot, slick and rough. Liam didn’t know how else to describe it. Zayn’s tongue licked over Liam’s own and bit down on his lip and pulled; taking Liam completely by surprise and he automatically responded by parting his lips. Just a little.

That was enough though, and Zayn pulled away immediately. “Slut,” he repeated with a dark chuckle. His laughter sounded strained and a bit forced, and Liam’s eyes furrowed in confusion and hurt. “I’m not a-“

“Oh yes, yes you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Keep dreaming, puppy boy. Was it or was it not you who didn’t even protest when my hand was jerking your pretty little cock off?”

“I- I that’s not, I didn’t want-“

“Whatever.”

And with that, he left the kitchen. There were some sounds from the living room and then the front door shut closed. Pretty harshly, actually.

“Hey Liam! Did you drown in the sink or something? I need my popcorn, you tit.”

Liam didn’t say anything in response. He was too exasperated, too shocked and too mind fucking blown to even bother giving Niall a proper answer.

~

After that, Zayn never left him alone. He was always there. Rough, violent grips on his hips, fingers casually stroking his arm and hot breaths ghosting in his neck. Their group of five had always been close. They had no problem with intimacy and had always trusted each other to the fullest- sometimes taking their teasing a bit too far. It wasn’t uncommon for them to get mistaken for couples in public. It was just who they were. Personal space wasn’t even a word in their dictionary and hadn’t been ever since they first met.

This though was something completely else. Liam knew it was more than an innocent touch. He was taunting him. Zayn was showing him how he owned Liam, how he was the only one who could touch him and to keep him on a leash.

It drove him crazy. How dared he. How dared he whisper obscene and frankly overly detailed stories about how Zayn would’ve fucked him into the mattress hadn’t Liam been such a slut. How dared he bury his fingers deep in Liam’s skin; carving red marks on him with blunt nails without as much as a warning.

And how dared he sit in the couch across of him, eyeing him rather obviously up and down over the edge of his drink. For fucks sake, they were out in public. What was he thinking? That vain piece of shit. Liam was raging. Zayn wasn’t supposed to be at this party. He wasn’t even supposed to be going out at all. He was supposed to sit in his apartment and stay far, far away from Liam. He had promised. And now, it was all going to hell. Literally.

They had to play Gay Chicken.

Out of the never-ending list of awkward games to play in this world they had to choose that one. Liam had gladly volunteered, thinking he’d just have some fun with it and hopefully end up turning some hot guy onto his team and take him home to play.

But of course; he had no such luck. While he had been out trying to drink himself some confidence in the kitchen, Zayn had arrived. Obviously signing up for it too. Whether it was because of Liam or just by pure coincidence, he had no idea. Liam had never really believed in coincidences, though.

“Liam, Zayn, you’re up.”

There were loud cheers and cheeky whistles from the crowd of people surrounding the pair as they eyed each other. Zayn was smiling that devious, flat out rude grin of his and Liam felt like punching him. Preferably with a rusty axe or something of the like.

“He’s too much of a wanker to even dare.”

The cold tone hit him flat across the face. Liam could’ve sworn there were genuine hurt behind his words hadn’t it been for the cocky grin beaming at him again mere seconds later.

“You know what?” Liam leaped out of his chair, slamming his beer bottle rather harshly down on the table besides him. “Let’s do it.”

He couldn’t help but grin out of pure satisfaction as Zayn’s jaw dropped just a little in surprise. Finally, it was Liam’s turn to completely blindside him and not the other way around as it had been for weeks.

It didn’t last long though as Zayn got up from his own seat on the couch, glaring at Liam with a determined and somehow confused expression. His fingers were twitching at his sides, slightly reaching out as if they wanted to just touch, touch Liam and have it be like that forever.

It hit him then. It wasn’t Zayn. It wasn’t Zayn, who had been teasing and pulling, touching and kissing, stroking and licking; it wasn’t he who had the upper hand in this.

It was Liam.

“So how do we begin this,” he questioned a tall brunette standing by his side without taking his eyes of Zayn for even just a second.

“You kiss,” she stated matter of factly, squeezing her tits just a bit closer together in a pathetic attempt to get Zayn’s eyes off of Liam and on her. It didn’t work.

“-without touching each other. At first.” she added. “And then, when one of you can’t resist it anymore and touches the other, it’s on. From there on you do everything you dare to do to freak the other out. The one who pulls away first, loses the game.”

She eyed them both to make sure they paid attention to what she was saying. She got no response at all, causing her to sigh irritated. “Got it?”

“Got it.” They both said it simultaneously, without as much as blinking. It was a silent bet between the two of them. There was so much more to this than just the pleasure of winning.

So when they both surged forward; hands tucked into their pockets to keep them restrained and lips locking hard enough to leave bruises behind for the morning after, there was only one thing on both of their minds. And it wasn’t exactly to lose.


End file.
